


Coffee Shop Miracle (F*** Finals)

by JennTheMastermind



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, Christmas AU, College AU, College finals, F/M, Language, barista!Clarke, coffee shop AU, history major!Bellamy, pre-med!Clarke, we've all been here, with or without the cute flirting barista
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5229734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennTheMastermind/pseuds/JennTheMastermind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While standing in line for the coffee he hopes is his Christmas miracle and studying for a final he fears he will fail, Bellamy is taken by surprise when the Barista is not only familiar, but also when she offers some unexpected help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee Shop Miracle (F*** Finals)

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally wrote this in two hours on my phone instead of writing the Gallery Review Paper due in my Art History class on Friday. Happy readings :)

Bellamy was stressing over his Physiology final. He was desperate, pouring his eyes over the textbook while in line at his University's coffee shop. He wasn't even reading it, really. His eyes moved like he was reading, but his mind was caught on failure. If only good intentions begot good grades...

Physiology was the last general education class he needed to graduate with his Bachelors in History a semester earlier than expected. He'd failed it twice before; he couldn't fail again and still earn his degree now. He needed the degree; he was guaranteed a well-paying job at a prestigious Museum if he had it now. 

He needed the paycheck to pay off loans, pay the rent—get Octavia through school. He was already late in graduating. He was twenty three. He knew people his same age with Masters Degrees. He didn't even have a Bachelors. 

It was all because he'd only been able to afford school part time. Shitty minimum wage jobs had taken up most of his time and Octavia the rest. His sister was far from a burden, but often he'd wished for some Hermione Granger Time Turner shit to help him out.

Bellamy shook his head. He returned to the top of the page.

Needless to say, Bellamy wasn't exactly feeling the Christmas spirit. What he was feeling, however, was the crushing anxiety from the pessimistic fear of his inevitable failure.

He was fucked.

He sighed. He started the passage over again.

The only thing remotely related to Christmas Bellamy was feeling was his need for one of those miracles—the ones people always had in cliché movies. He hoped his miracle would be the double shot espresso; it certainly wasn't going to be his professor’s generosity and a painlessly passing grade. 

He was out of options to pass. The Museum job was going to slip away. He was going to be there another semester or until he fulfilled his general education. He might as well start turning out more job applications and drop out. He was never going to pass.

He was so fucked.

"Hey, Mr. Physiology Textbook," the Barista called, "are you going to order some coffee, or am I working at a library that just conveniently has espresso machines?"

Bellamy looked up and snapped his textbook closed, thoughtless of marking his page.

"Uh, yeah," he managed, reaching for his wallet. "I'll have a double shot mocha espresso, please."

The Barista just looked at him, her fingers tapping on the metal countertop. The way her head tilted, pieces of her tangled blonde hair escaping her bun, she seemed familiar.

Bellamy looked back, pulling cash out of his wallet more slowly and unsure why she was staring. It was like she knew something he didn't. Was it so obvious he wasn't really reading? He could always tell when someone else wasn't reading. It was amusing every time.

She was still staring, her smirk a faint smile.

Bellamy paused, "Are you going to punch my order in, or am I really ordering coffee in the library that conveniently has espresso machines?"

The Barista smirked, took his money, and turned to the register. She gave him his change and Bellamy returned his wallet to his pocket. His eyes were fixated on the turn of her lips and subtle Monroe mole. She was familiar—not just because he frequented the coffee shop and she'd been working there since the beginning of the semester—not just because her attractiveness was difficult for him to forget. She was familiar in another way.

He opened his textbook again and waited. He didn't comprehend a single word.

"So when's your Physiology final?" The Barista yelled at Bellamy over the espresso machine. 

He looked up and realized she was the only one working. 

"Tomorrow afternoon," he answered.

She nodded. She was too familiar.

"Are you planning on sleeping at all?"

"I hadn't thought about it, actually," Bellamy closed his book again, metaphorically giving up because he couldn’t bring himself to do it literally.

The Barista brought the espresso to the counter for him. 

"Sleep might do you more good than that at this point," she nodded to his textbook. She reached into the pastry display and pulled out an oatmeal, cranberry muffin. She slid it next to his drink.

He hesitated, pointing to the muffin, "I didn't order that."

"I know."

“I didn’t pay for it.”

“I know.”

"How'd you know I'd want oatmeal cranberry if I did order that?"

She shrugged.

"Then why’d you do that?"

"I recognized the desperate, fake reading. That's what I've been doing all week for my Roman History final tomorrow. The muffin is on me," she dropped a shrug and a fair smile. "All that caffeine is no good on an empty stomach."

He nodded and raised the muffin in genuine thanks. "Maybe I can return the favor someday, then."

"If you need a study partner, you can pay me back then."

He looked askance at her, fairly certain she just did what he thought she just did.

"I took AP Physio in high school," she started, "and passed the test for the college credit. And I’m Pre-Med. I can help you with your test if you help me with mine."

He paused again, "How'd you know or not if I'm any good at Roman History?"

"I have it on good word, Bellamy, that you are," she smiled. More hair fell out of her bun.

"And whose word is that?" He cautioned.

"Octavia’s."

He stared, dumbfounded. His stressed-out, physiology filled mind couldn't comprehend. Then, suddenly it did.

"Clarke Griffin!" He blurted. "Octavia's friend from—"

"Roman History class," they chorused together.

Clarke laughed, leaning forward on the counter. "You've been coming here for months and I've been waiting for you to figure it out."

"I can't believe I didn't recognize you," Bellamy apologized, setting his things down beside them, "especially after you two marathoned the 300 movies until 3 a.m. the night before midterms."

"You stayed up with us, remember? You pointed out every historical inaccuracy until O—”

"Tried to smother me with a pillow and spilled the popcorn everywhere.”

"Yep," she smiled.

"Well, then," Bellamy smiled back, "I'd love to pay you back the favor and I could definitely use some Physiology help."

"My shift ends in an hour," Clarke pushed herself off the counter. Her smile seemed permanent. Her lips were glossy in the shop's light. "Meet you then?"

Bellamy nodded, grabbing his things and smiling himself. He grabbed a table outside the shop and waited. He tried to read his Physiology textbook again—tried.

Maybe he wasn’t fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> Bellamy is me. This is why I wrote fanfiction instead of my essay. We have all been here, praying for the semester to end or for some Hermione Granger Time Turner shit.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! As always, comments and critiques are appreciated and welcome.  
> Check out my tumblr if you're curious! truealphabellamy.tumblr.com  
> Have a great day, sunshines!


End file.
